She does not know her full name, but she knows her Baba is Caucasian.

SS and I have been laying low the last couple of days, with very low energy on both our parts. I had an easy breezy Mother's Day. P thought that he had made late reservations for brunch at 2:00 p.m., but that turned out to work out just fine. The bowel G0ds punished me pretty hard, the pain subsided around 5:00 a.m. and then it took me about another hour to fall asleep. P allowed me to get much needed sleep and I felt confident about our brunch date. SS was her usual adorable self, it blows our mind how well the girl can hide the evil within.

This afternoon P placed a second bumper sticker on our cars. I have issues with commitment and have never had a bumper sticker in a vehicle. That is one long a$ commitment right there and I never wanted one. I don't care to announce to world my political affiliation, views on abortion, whether my child is an honor roll student (as if), or remind the world to save the whales. The ones we have had before (I put my foot down at one and one only per car) were P's doing. He embarrassed me by having one from that awful discriminatory, crappy university we attended, and now he proudly sports one from a TV show. I can never see myself getting a tattoo for the same reasons, and let's face it, it took me six years to accept P's marriage proposal, we are talking a serious aversion here. This is over something that can be removed or scraped. Imagine how I feel about two deforming scars adorning my body eternally.

There are two small surf shops in Puerto Rico, Playero, and I recall their products from my adolescence. P found the original shop in Old San Juan last year but I just could not justify the price for not very good looking T-shirts. I have always liked their logo, it's very simple, like me. P ordered us a bumper sticker each and also a Yunnan bumper sticker to honor my birthplace and SS's. I was touched by his gesture and contemplated getting one that states "save the males."

Not a day goes by that we do not talk about China. We have SS's Chinese flag in our living room, there are pictures of our trip there and two sets of referral pictures that SS looks at everyday. I also found that the more I talk to SS about her story, the easier it gets for me. I have had now almost two years of finding the right, simple words to explain to SS our journey to become a family and her arrival home. Although she has limited verbal skills, she is very aware that we are different. She studies faces that are like hers, a few months ago she blew me away by asserting "Mama has brown eyes." SS also points at JJ's eyes when she is looking at his pictures. We do not make a big deal about our ethnicity, but SS traveled to P.R. and we told her that Mama was born in Ponce, where he beloved Parque de Bombas is located. We do not talk as much about P's ethnicity, but SS has heard enough about his Irish heritage and we have too many Paddy's Day t-shirts and boxer shorts she sees us wear to bed.

Now, I do not recall using the word Caucasian frequently in front of SS, but somehow it made its way into her brain. When I asked P if he wanted a bumper sticker (you have no idea how much that hurt, defacing my car with a third one) he joked "Yeah, get me one that says just another average White guy." This afternoon SS began referring to P as Caucasian. I thought I heard wrong, but that was what she said. We do not think SS has a clue about what that really means, but she sure enjoyed using the word. We much rather she learns her full name, but we are wimps and we just roll with what SS throws our way.

P and the kids also gave me a Playero hoodie sweatshirt, two lanyards (for our summer water fun passes), and a key ring. I am all Playero'd out.

Last week SS sat on my lap, put her cute arms around my neck, kissed me and said "Mama, I love China" I don't blame her, there is a lot to love there. SS was quiet for a while then said "Mama no China... Baba no China, JJ no China." No sweetie we were not born in China but we are so proud that you were.